


Oblivion

by HorrorJunkie



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Ivar wants revenge, Learning to trust, Lots of tropes bc I can, M/M, Retrograde Amnesia, Tested Loyalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorrorJunkie/pseuds/HorrorJunkie
Summary: A man awakens with several injuries and no memory of who he is, where he’s at or how he got there. The only person who can help him is the one man who hates him.Ivar wants his revenge against Heahmund for betraying him but can’t bring himself to hurt a man who clings to him as he suffers from not knowing who he is, his past or why Ivar hates him so much.(This is my first Ivar/Heahmund pairing but all the great writing inspired me to do my own. I hope it isn’t too bad and does them justice.)





	1. Waking Up

The man can feel pain along his body. It’s strange but he knows the pain is his yet it also feels so far away. He can smell smoke, herbs and he can hear the rustling of cloth as well as the murmur of voices. He tries so hard to open his eyes and move but instead feel hands, strong yet gentle hands push slightly until he’s laying back on something soft. He is so tired and eventually succumbs to the darkness and sleeps.

This happens on and off for days. His wounds begin to heal but the herbs and teas and broths being given to him keep him asleep for the majority of the days and nights. When he finally wakes for good, his vision is slightly blurry and his thoughts are confusing. Rather than focus on his strange absence of memory on how he got there, he begins to focus on what he sees. There’s a large stone fireplace on one side of the room, dried herbs of various kinds are hanging from strings on the ceiling. There’s a rather good size table near the fireplace with two chairs set before it. A large curtain sections off another part of the room he’s in. He’s not sure who is behind it but he aims to find out.

The man groans as he tries to get up, wincing as he feels a pull on his back. It’s the sounds escaping his lips that attract the attention of the person on the other side of the curtain. Hurrying forward, an older lady walks swiftly to him, her piercing dark eyes stopping his movements. Neither speak as they stare at each other. It’s only when he attempts to move again that he realizes there’s something on his leg. Moving the sheet aside, he frowns at the shackle that’s tied to his ankle and to the bed. Looking up at the woman, he sees her give a smile before she goes to the door and walks outside leaving him confused.

Why was he shackled? Where was he? What had happened?

He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to remember what had happened that had left him wounded when he realizes two things. One, he feels a strange pain in his head, as if he had been hit or had fallen hard. Even lightly pressing it sent a wave of pain shooting through his head. The second thing he realizes, and this realization begins to fill him with dread is the fact that he can’t remember anything.

Closing his eyes, he takes deep breaths as he tells himself to remain calm. He speaks to himself softly as he tries desperately to remember.

“My name is…  
I come from…  
I am here because…  
My name is…  
My name…”

Each sentence is uttered and left unanswered as he clenches his fists on the sheets of the bed. So focused is he on trying to remember that he fails to hear footsteps approaching, the door opening or the sound of something dragging along the floor. It’s several long moments before he realizes he’s no longer alone as he opens his eyes and looks at the man standing before him. He is glaring at him with hate in eyes too blue to be real. A sharp smile crosses the man’s face.

“Well now Heahmund. I bet you are surprised to see me. Tell me, how do you feel knowing you’re in my possession again after what happened with Lagertha, hmmm? What do you think I am going to do with you Heahmund?”

For his part, Ivar had been battling alternating emotions ranging between shock at finding Heahmund injured but alive after the battle, rage that Heahmund had betrayed him to fight for Lagertha, glee that he could and would take his revenge on Heahmund but he also privately felt disillusionment and grief that the one person he had believed he could trust had turned out to be like everyone else.

He’s annoyed when Heahmund gives him a blank stare at his words. Ivar hated to be ignored. Moving closer to Heahmund, he stands before him and takes out his knife, swiftly pressing it to Heahmund’s throat, surprised to see Heahmund flinch and genuine fear in his eyes. Heahmund feared nothing yet this small act filled his eyes with terror. It was unexpectedly gratifying for Ivar to know Heahmund was afraid of him and for good reason.

“I asked you a question Heahmund. Answer me or I’ll have you bleeding on the floor.”

To prove his point, he digs the sharp tip of his knife into Heahmund’s skin, just enough to break the skin. A small red dot welled up as Heahmund inhaled sharply at the pain. Licking his lips, he stares in confusion at the man before him.

“Who is Heahmund?”


	2. Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar struggles to accept that Heahmund no longer remembers him but on Floki’s advice, he makes Heahmund his slave.

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?!”

Ivar was furious. After all this time waiting for Heahmund to heal so that he can properly enjoy his vengeance against him for betraying him for the blonde whore, it had been a blow to realize Heahmund had no idea who he was. Though his brothers were gone, having left after he had defeated Björn and Lagertha to retain his place as King of Kattagat, he wasn’t alone. Floki had returned from his travels and was content to remain in Kattegat with Ivar for the time being. 

“How could he just forget everything Floki? He does not know his name, where he came from, his own faith and God. His entire existence is just gone. How does that happen?”

Was this punishment from the gods for what had happened? No. The gods had seen fit to return Heahmund to him to enact his revenge but the trickster god Loki must have had something to do with this. Return Heahmund but have him remember nothing. It wasn’t fair.

“Go ahead and kill him Ivar. Whether he remembers or not makes no difference. He betrayed you. Why are we having this discussion?”

Floki just didn’t understand. No one did. How could he explain it so that it made sense to Floki when it barely made sense to him?

“I want him to know why I am killing him. I want him to remember and know that each cut of my knife is a wound I pay back in kind for the one he inflicted on me. Killing him when he has no knowledge of what he did would not be right. I will have to wait for him to remember. How long will it take?”

He asked Floki because he was the one person who would know the answer. He had years of experience and Ivar trusted Floki would give him the truth and the answer he wanted. 

Rubbing his beard, Floki stares in contempt at the sleeping bishop tucked away on a cot in the corner of the room. 

“I have seen injuries like this before. Ivar, the truth is that no one really knows. Sometimes the forgetfulness only lasts a few hours or days. Sometimes it’s longer and in extremely rare times…”

Falling silent, he thinks back to those very few but still haunting men who never recovered. With a sigh, he looks back at Ivar again and admits the truth to him. 

“Sometimes, they just never remember. They become entirely different men. Only time will tell what will become of your pet Christian.”

The sound of a pitcher of mead being hurled against the wall and breaking wakes Heahmund from his sleep. Though now recovering, he had the tendency to fall asleep a lot. The healer had assured Ivar it was normal after receiving the kind of injury to the head that Heahmund had. He gasps, looking around, seemingly frightened until he sees Ivar. For some reason, the sight of Ivar calms him down. Ivar is angry but Floki immediately notices that Ivar's appearance has an immediate effect on the bishop. Interesting.

“What happened? Is everything alright?”

His voice is low but both Ivar and Floki can hear the tension in it as well as see the latent fear in his eyes and the way his fists are clutching the thin blanket he had. Floki walks towards him and hunches down, wanting to take a good look at the Bishop he had heard so much about. Oh he had heard about him alright. The stories were something to behold. The men had told him he was a great warrior, no one had been his equal and that him and Ivar had formed an unlikely friendship (possibly more) until this man had betrayed Ivar. He had heard that the man was fearless and as devoted to his god as Floki was to their gods. And yet now, Floki saw none of that. He saw a man with no past, no present and likely no future once Ivar was finished with him. He could see this man was nervous, uncertain and the only thing keeping him in place was strangely enough the person who wanted to kill him.

“You’ve slept long enough. You’re a slave. It’s time you started remembering your place here.”

Floki had no sentiment towards this former bishop. Leaving him to his confusion, he returns to Ivar and whispers frantically in his ear, hoping Ivar will for once take his advice and listen.

“He is now your slave. Your personal slave, no one else’s. It will keep him close to you and maybe being around you will help bring his memories back. Do not argue Ivar. If you don’t want to kill him yet, you don’t have much of a choice. The longer it takes for him to remember, the less likely it is he will ever remember anything. Do you understand?”

Ivar was frustrated but he knew Floki had a point. Still, there was some merit to this idea. How far the powerful bishop had fallen to now be Ivar’s slave. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Turning towards Heahmund, he smiles and gestures for him to get up.

“You are my own slave Heahmund. You serve no one but me. Your place is by me. Do you understand? Now go clean that mess then fetch us something to eat. Floki and I have much to discuss. Go.”

Rising in confusion, Heahmund stares blankly at Ivar before nodding and going to clean up the mess from the broken pitcher. 

He was a slave? Shouldn’t knowing his name and what he was before bring a wave of comfort or familiarity? None of this felt right but he didn’t know or understand why. Still, he felt some slight relief that Ivar was keeping him close. He had only seen a few people so far and it was only with Ivar that he felt some strange…  
He didn’t know how to describe it but he knew for certain that Ivar and him had known each other before he had lost his memories. As he finishes cleaning, he leaves to go fetch food for Ivar and the other man, the one with the shrewd eyes.

As he returns with a tray of food for the men, he’s mumbling to himself, unaware that both Ivar and Floki are eyeing him and listening to his rambling thoughts.

“My name is Heahmund.  
I am a slave to Ivar.  
Before I was a slave, I was…  
I came from…  
I...don’t...remember…”

Once he lays out their food, he goes back to the corner of the room and waits, still desperately trying to remember something. Anything.

He fails.


	3. Desperate Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his desperate quest to find out who he really is and regain his memories, Heahmund goes to the one person who trusts him even less than Ivar does.

The days bleed into each other. It didn’t take Heahmund long to realize Ivar had a routine he stuck to rigidly. Wake up, dress, eat, walk outside and see what, if anything, is new or different in the city, visit the docks to see what the traders and merchants have brought, return to the great hall, listen to petitioners, eat, visit with Floki, go out again for another walk, this time to wherever he feels like going, the docks, the woods, the training area. He returns to the great hall for his evening meal, talks to Floki or some of his men (no friends though. Heahmund noticed that Ivar kept himself distant and apart from everyone other than Floki). During this time, Heahmund would prepare him a bath. Depending on Ivar’s mood, he’d bathe alone, have Heahmund wash him or have Heahmund sit in the room but not speak to him.

That is what bothered Heahmund. He was Ivar’s personal slave yet Ivar did not speak to him. He would sometimes catch Ivar watching him, staring as if trying to see through him but he wouldn’t speak. He thought he sometimes caught sadness in Ivar’s eyes when he watched him but it disappeared so fast he was certain he had imagined it. 

Even the other slaves did not speak to Heahmund. No one did. They were all under orders from Ivar to not speak to him unless it was with an order from Ivar himself. It was a lonely existence and he often wondered what he had done before his memories had left him that had caused this punishment. It was strange because he heard the slaves talk about Ivar’s cruelty, his demeanor and how terrified they were of him yet he had yet to see this side of Ivar. Ivar was not cruel to him in any way. He did not yell at him or mistreat him. He was not indifferent either. It was as if Ivar was not quite sure what to do with him. Heahmund followed him around wherever he went as instructed even though he was not sure what the purpose of this was. It was not his place to question.

Day after day he kept to the routine, never questioning but always adjusting. He watched and he learned. Who the others were, what they did, routines, the politics of the city. He was always in the background listening and learning but he did not speak. Many times he would think of something that was a contrasting opinion to what others would tell Ivar. It surprised him how often Ivar would think the same as he did for Ivar would voice his decrees and opinions and many times, they mirrored what Heahmund was thinking. Still he kept silent.

It was during his second week of his servitude that Ivar finally spoke to him. 

“Heahmund. Come sit.”

Surprised, Heahmund looks up from his small cot and stares confused at Ivar who is looking at him expectantly. Slowly he stands, uncertain of what Ivar would need now and why he’s finally talking to him. For his part, Ivar was frustrated, restless and bored. Nothing he said or did seemed to help Heahmund regain his memory. Floki had advised him yet again to kill him and be done with it but he couldn’t. He had his reasons for wanting Heahmund to remember but sometimes, it was hard for him to recall what those reasons were. He was angry. As he watched Heahmund slowly make his way to the table where the game was set up, he admitted he felt anger and he felt cheated. He finally had Heahmund, fully at his mercy and dependent on him and yet Heahmund was unaware of this. Nothing was keeping Heahmund alive but him and he couldn’t let him go. He had the chess set ready for days now but could not seem to bring himself to play. Heahmund was the only person that had ever provided him with a challenge when playing and had even beat Ivar before. He realized he had missed that. The moments between them were the Viking and the Bishop were stripped away and it was just two men (maybe friends?) playing against each other and having mindless conversation. 

“I am going to teach you how to play Heahmund so that you can at least provide me some form of entertainment and distraction.”

The pieces were ready and as he set about to explain the rules to him, he realizes Heahmund has gone pale, his hands are clenching the edges of the table, his knuckles white.

“Heahmund?”

Heahmund does not hear Ivar. He is looking down at the table but does not see what is before him. He sees a similar game from another time, another day. The game is already in progress as a hand reaches out to get a cup of mead alongside the board. He hears voices, distant but there. He can only catch a few words as he tries hard to listen.

“Brothers...Ironside...Ragnar...strategy...free will...illusion...choose…”

He mutters those words before the vague memory disappears from his mind as quickly as it had come. He blinks rapidly as he focuses back on the game in front of him and on Ivar who is looking at him strangely.

“What did you see? Do you remember Heahmund?”

Shaking his head, he feels hopelessness towards himself and his situation. Why can’t he remember? He describes what little he was able to recall to Ivar who stares holes into him before ordering him to get some sleep. He has things to do. Rising from his seat, Ivar leaves the room leaving Heahmund confused and afraid in the room as he slowly stands to put things away and clean up a bit before Ivar returns. As he slowly puts away the game, he has the strangest sense that he has played this game before and that he has played against Ivar. Maybe that’s why Ivar seemed so upset. 

Why? Why would no one talk to him about Ivar and their past together? He had learned quickly that asking such a thing was foolish and dangerous but he had to know. He knew that somehow, the keys to his memory and his past was finding out more about who Ivar had been to him and who or what he had been to Ivar. There was one man he could talk to. One man who could maybe fill in the answers to the questions he had but the man always looked at Heahmund with disgust or contempt. He knew he was taking a big chance but at the next opportunity when Ivar was occupied, Heahmund resolved to seek out Floki and talk to him. 

He received his chance just two days later when Ivar was met with some unexpected troubles involving merchants. He kept to his own duties but as soon as he found the chance, he quickly left on the pretext of getting more wood for the fires. He quickly raced to the woods and to where he knew the boatbuilder lived.

He knows he’s close when an axe comes sailing unexpectedly and hits the tree next to his head. Instinct kicks in and he makes to defend himself, his hand going to where a sword would normally be. Floki eyes him with knowing eyes as he appears from among the trees. He can see the sudden confusion in Heahmund’s eyes as he looks down, Heahmund wondering why he would be drawing a sword when he was certain he had never held one in his life. He was a slave not a warrior.

“Well, well. The slave got lost did he?” Giggling, Floki know right away that Ivar has no idea where Heahmund is at. “Escaped did you? Trying to run away?”

“No! No. It’s just…”

Floki stares at the bishop, not making any sound or movement as he watches the man struggle to form his thoughts and words. He knows Heahmund is here for a reason, something he does not want Ivar to to find out about. Surely he knows Floki is like a second father to Ivar yet for him to seek him out? It takes a lot of courage or desperation.

“What do you want Heahmund?”

“Who am I to Ivar? I ask and no one tells me. They are forbidden to do so. Ivar himself tells me nothing. He does not speak to me. You know who I was before all this. I need to know.”

“Go back to the great hall and be grateful if I do not tell Ivar you were here because if he finds out…”

“Please.”

It was the please that stopped Floki. He was not a man to give sympathy and would have mocked Heahmund for being weak but it was the look in his eyes that made him pause. Slowly he walks up to Heahmund and stares at him for a long time. Heahmund continues to stare at him, pleading silently for help. It is a long while before Floki gives a short nod and gestures for Heahmund to follow him to his home. What a strange world he was in now that he found himself surprisingly slightly sympathetic towards a man he was inclined to hate. Gesturing to a stool, he pours them both a cup of mead, sighing as he tries to figure out how much to tell Heahmund.

“I cannot tell you everything. Some things you will have to figure out on your own and remember but I can tell you this. Ivar has brothers he was never really close to. Ivar kept to himself, his thoughts and feelings. No one ever knew what was really going on in his mind. Until you. You were the first and only friend Ivar ever had. He captured you but you both understood each other. You stood at his side unequal to anyone. There was a battle, a war to keep his seat as King of Kattegat. A war against his brothers and the woman who killed his mother. You were injured and here you are. A mere shadow of the man Ivar knew and befriended yet he keeps you alive. Why is that? What do you think makes you so special that he doesn’t get rid of you?”

Heahmund listens to all this, questions in his mind but what Floki says to him rings with truth though perhaps not all the truth. Still, it is a start. It’s more than what he knew before about himself. There’s just one more thing he wants to ask for now. Instinct tells him not to push too much just yet.

“I am not Viking. I know this somehow. Where am I from?”

Floki looks surprised but stands and goes to open the door.

“That is a question for another time. I need to speak to Ivar about his ships and you have duties to attend to.”

Sensing it’s futile to keep asking, Heahmund rises and follows Floki. Neither man speaks as they make their way back to the city. It is only when they arrive that they run into Ivar who looks surprised to see them together. Walking away to see to his duties, he does not notice the look he is receiving from Ivar but Floki sees it and sighs. Despite everything that has happened, Ivar still loves his priest. As much as Floki hates to see this and hates everything to do with the Christian god, he cannot deny that Ivar is a very different man when the priest is around. He is calmer, more inclined to listen and more patient than he has ever been in his life. As Ivar and Floki return to the great hall, Floki’s mind is at war. He wants Ivar to finally find the happiness he craves but the idea of him finding it with the Christian priest rankles him. He would have to pray to the gods for enlightenment and hopefully a clear answer. 

For his part, Heahmund thinks long and hard about what he learned from Floki. As he works, he remembers little things. Small memories that seem to confirm what Floki had told him. There are a lot of moments of him and Ivar smiling as they look at each other. It’s only later that night as he prepares to go to sleep, comforted by the few memories slowly coming back to him that another thought enters his mind. The memories of him and Ivar, the looks and smiles. Sometimes there was laughter. He can’t help but blurt out when Ivar enters the room.

“Were we lovers?”


	4. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Were we lovers?"
> 
> That is what Heahmund asked. Ivar's response may surprise you but it's what happens after that begins to define the pair as they try to reach a resolution towards Heahmund's lost memories and Ivar's need for revenge.

Time seemed to freeze for Ivar when he heard that question come from Heahmund’s lips. His own body suddenly felt frozen, unable to move as he processed what Heahmund was asking him. It would be so easy to lie to him. To tell him yes, they had been lovers and see where it would take them. He could not deny he had always felt an attraction towards the bishop. There had been something about him that had called to Ivar, a meeting of the minds. So many nights he had lain in his bed thinking about the man. He had wanted the priest in a way he knew he could never have him. He had wanted every part of Heahmund to belong to him. 

Yes, he could admit he wanted Heahmund in that way. He had thought his cock to be useless but to his genuine surprise, when his thoughts had turned to Heahmund and his own deep secret of what he could and would do to him had his body not betrayed him, Ivar had realized he was starting to feel lust building. It was a slow rolling sensation in that area that had caused him to harden for the first time in his life. He had used his own hand and had imagined what it would be like if the priest were the one there, using his hands or his mouth and he had imagined what it would be like to be buried deep inside the priest, their bodies joined. He had not lasted long but he had harbored a small measure of gratitude towards Heahmund for showing him pleasures of the flesh if only in his own mind and with his own hand. 

His eyes flared as he stared at Heahmund, lust evident in them before he got himself under control. Walking towards his bed, he gestures for Heahmund to follow. He stretches his legs out and waits for Heahmund to help him remove the braces from his legs.

Heahmund’s hands are steady as he removes the straps and buckles. He’s gentle as he removes each one, taking care not to hurt Ivar. His face turns up as he dares to ask his question again.

“Were we lovers Ivar?”

His voice is low and husky. Ivar stares at him and sees Heahmund nervously lick his lips.

How easy it would be to say yes. Yes, they were lovers. He could tell Heahmund anything he wanted and Heahmund would believe him. If he told him they had been lovers, would Heahmund be so eager to resume what he thought their relationship was? If he said that they had been lovers, he could finally take Heahmund and possess him, make him his. He would share his bed with him every night and finally make the priest all his. All he had to do was say yes to Heahmund.

Heahmund with the silvery blue eyes that stared at Ivar as if he held all the answers in the world. Heahmund who would stare and cling to him as if Ivar was his lifeboat in stormy seas. Heahmund trusted Ivar and no one else for he was all he had. Heahmund believed everything Ivar said to him. 

It is with this realization that Ivar put his fingers under Heahmund’s chin and forced him to look up at him.

“No Heahmund. We were never lovers. Most of the time we were adversaries but over time we became friends. You were the only friend I ever had. Our relationship was complicated because we had different ideals and beliefs but through it all, we managed to find common ground.”

Releasing his chin, Ivar sighs as he uses his hands to lift his legs to his bed. He refuses to look at Heahmund anymore. He had his chance but he found he could not take it. This was not how he wanted Heahmund. He wanted him to come of his own free will and with his memories intact. It had to be Heahmund’s choice to come to Ivar. He had never lied to Heahmund and he would not start now. Heahmund may have lied to him and betrayed him but Ivar was honest with Heahmund. He had to be. The priest always had a way of seeing through him so lying would have been pointless.

“Get some sleep Heahmund. Anymore questions you have I may answer for you tomorrow.”

Heahmund knows better than to argue so he nods and goes to his small cot, confusion on his face. Ivar watches him, curious why Heahmund doesn’t look relieved or happy to find out they were never lovers but he doesn’t question him. He doesn’t want to hear the answer. Laying down, he closes his eyes and falls asleep quickly.

Heahmund lays down, trying to pinpoint the feeling of disappointment he had felt when Ivar had admitted they were never lovers. Why was it disappointing to him? He didn’t understand. Perhaps he had feelings for Ivar before he lost his memories and was now feeling them again. He battles with his questions and uncertainty before he finally falls asleep. It was not a night for restful sleep. He is haunted by a nightmare he can’t escape from. He has visions of battle, of death and of blood. He feels the pain of arrows as the hit his body. He sees the inside of a building, a church? He’s not certain but he feels wrong being there. As if he is not welcome. 

It’s the sound of thrashing that wakes Ivar. He quickly grabs his knife from underneath his pillow and it is only in the dim light of what’s left of the fire that he realizes the thrashing is coming from Heahmund across the room. He does not want to bother with his braces so he lowers himself quickly and crawls across the room to the small cot. Heahmund is covered in sweat as Ivar reaches out to wake him. 

Waking with a start, Heahmund is breathing heavy and desperate to gain his bearings. He looks around before realizing Ivar is there with him and breaks all forms of protocol by sliding off the cot and wrapping his arms around Ivar in a hug.

It’s unexpected and Ivar does know quite what to do before he gingerly raises his own arms and proceeds to awkwardly hold Heahmund. As confused as he is, Ivar hates seeing his priest so unlike himself. The once proud and fierce warrior bishop is now a confused and shell-shocked man, clinging to the one who wants nothing more than to crucify him.

Or does he? Ivar hates to reflect on himself but being with this new Heahmund makes him more...protective? Is that the word. He hates it and feels that words like that and love and compassion do not belong in the vocabulary of a Viking but he knows them well. These are words he learned thanks to Heahmund in the first place.

“Come on. Get up Heahmund. It’s late and I am tired. You can share my bed tonight.”

Ivar crawls back to his own large bed and takes one corner of it as Heahmund slowly follows and takes the other corner. Ivar turns his back and falls asleep rather quickly while Heahmund soon follows.

Maybe it is their shared loneliness or maybe it is the secret longing and connection they try to deny they share but as they sleep, they both turn and end up in the middle together. 

That is how Floki finds them in the morning when he goes looking for Ivar.

They are both together in the bed facing each other. Ivar’s arm around Heahmund’s waist and Heahmund’s hand against Ivar’s chest. Their faces are close together. 

Ivar wakes first, noticing Floki who is watching him with inscrutable eyes. He realizes he’s holding Heahmund as much as he hates to let go, he reluctantly shifts away and sits up carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping priest.

“Wait for me in the hall Floki. I’ll dress and meet you there. This is not what you think.”

Floki says nothing as he leaves the room. He had originally come to talk to Ivar about another way to perhaps prod the priests memory but all that was temporarily moved aside as he sat down, concern in his eyes as he finally heard Ivar slowly making his way to him. When Ivar sits, they stare at each other for a long time before Floki finally asks Ivar about the priest. He knows Ivar won’t lie to him.

“You love him don’t you? That is why you cannot bring yourself to crucify him. The Ivar I knew from before he met the priest would not have hesitated to have him killed yet you make excuses and reasons to avoid getting your revenge on him. He betrayed you and though you may not have forgiven him, you love him too much to kill him. Am I right Ivar?”

His knife in hand, Ivar twirls it a bit as Floki speaks. He listens and makes no comment. He’s saved from having to answer due to Heahmund entering the room. He looks to both men before walking out to resume his duties. It is Floki that finally breaks the silence.

“I will take him with me for a few days. You need to focus on the city, the people and what you plan to do about the priest. I will not kill him. I have some ideas for perhaps returning his memory but I do not need you to be around as a distraction to him. You think I am blind? His eyes always search for you when you’re in a room and you always look for him. You are both fools.”

As Heahmund returns, Floki stands and walks towards him.

“Prepare what little you have. You are coming to stay with me for a while. I have some ideas that may help bring your memory back but it has to be done in my home. Ivar has given consent. Quickly. We leave soon.”

Heahmund is surprised as he watches Floki walk out of the hall. He walks to Ivar and puts down the tray of food and drink. Ivar will not look him in the eye so he takes a big risk. He puts out his hand and touches Ivar’s hand gently. It is only then that Ivar looks at him. Ivar removes his hand from Heahmund’s touch and gestures towards the doors with his knife.

“Floki does not like to be kept waiting. Get your things and go.”

He knows it’s useless to ask questions or argue so he leaves to gather what little things he had. He had seen what happens to slaves who talk back and had counted himself fortunate to not be one of them. The ones who got beaten, abused and killed. Despite being a slave, Ivar had never treated him that way and would not allow anyone to treat him that way. He took comfort and solace in that. Leaving the city and being away from Ivar was terrifying for him but Ivar trusted Floki so he would have to trust in him as well. As he walks out to the hall, Ivar is twirling his knife, anger on his face. Heahmund does not know what to say to him so he nods his goodbye and prepares to leave. 

“Wait!”

Ivar cannot let things stand. He rises from the table and moves as quickly as he can towards Heahmund. It was unexpected and fast when he puts his hand around Heahmund’s neck and pulls him towards him for a kiss. Despite his anger, he was gentle with Heahmund as his lips pressed against those of the priest. As suddenly as he had kissed him, Ivar breaks their kiss but doesn’t let go.

“Remember me Heahmund. Now go.”

Finally releasing the priest, Ivar returns to his food and Heahmund walks out to Floki in a daze. Floki sees the expression and the slightly swollen lips and knows what Ivar has done. Shaking his head, he begins to walk with Heahmund to his cabin and to where he knows Heahmund will remember himself.


	5. Ananyzapata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar and Heahmund. 
> 
> The pagan king and the Christian bishop. 
> 
> It did not make sense but who was he to question the will of the gods?
> 
> How could one man be so important to Ivar? What made him so special?

The walk to Floki’s was silent. Both men were deep in thought. Floki was thinking and wondering how this one man, this priest, could be so important to Ivar. Love was a mystery but none more so than how or why these two would be seemingly fated to be drawn to each other.

Ivar and Heahmund. 

The pagan king and the Christian bishop. 

It did not make sense but who was he to question the will of the gods? He had thought long and hard and he knew the only way to bring any of this to any resolution was for Heahmund to remember who he was.

Heahmund was still thinking about that kiss. It had been brief but he knew he would never forget it. He had been given a small taste of Ivar and had felt his blood begin to stir. Had Ivar not let go as quickly as he did, Heahmund would have delved deep to truly taste him. They had not been lovers, he was certain Ivar was telling the truth but he knew without a doubt that both had feelings towards each other. There were still a lot of questions left unanswered but he could be patient and wait. He had certainly learned that pushing for answers led to nothing good.

As they neared Floki’s cottage, Heahmund looked around, certain that he had never visited this place. It held no pull of familiarity or recognition. It comforted him in a way he did not understand. Perhaps it would be here in this unknown place that held no familiarity of any kind that would finally help trigger something more than just flashes of his past.

He continues to follow Floki as he enters the hut he called a home. It was clean but it was clear he had not lived there for at least a few days. Rather than await instructions, Heahmund quickly puts down the few possessions he has (which admittedly is only a sleep shift, a change of clothes and small blade he usually used for cutting food) and he begins to straighten up as Floki ignores him and works on starting a fire. 

Heahmund notices little things that tell him a woman used to live here but he wisely stays silent. He sees a woman’s shift, dried flowers and other little odds and ends that seem out of character for Floki to have but would make sense for a woman to have left behind. It’s only when Floki speaks to him that he stops what he’s doing and goes to stand by the table where Floki is now seated. Gesturing for Heahmund to sit, Floki runs his hands over his head and silently contemplates the priest before him.

“Tomorrow you will help me with my work and you will train. If you are to be amongst Vikings, you need to learn how to fight like one. You are not a child or a woman. I will use my axes and you will use a sword. We will see how you fight. You were once a warrior. It is time you remembered how to be one again.”

Surprise flitters across Heahmund’s face at Floki’s words. A warrior? He had been a warrior? He’d had images and dreams of such things but he just could not believe himself to be one. Most of the time he felt weak and afraid. A warrior did not have such emotions. Surely Floki was joking and yet looking at his face and eyes, Heahmund was certain Floki was not one to jest. Giving a brief nod, he watches Floki get up and leave as he mumbles something about checking on his boats. As much as he wants to follow him, he refrains. It would be better for him to remain behind and take some time to reflect on his own thoughts. 

*************************

Day after day, Heahmund wakes early and after a quick breakfast, they go and train. Floki is relentless with his axes and Heahmund is often left sore and bruised. He doesn’t understand why Floki kept yelling and insisting he was a warrior when most of the time he ended up on his ass and groaning. He was useless with the axes. His aim was pitiful and he could barely keep his grip on them when defending himself against Floki. He failed to see how doing this was going to help him get his memory back because if anything, this form of training was making him decide that when he got his memory back, he’d never pick up a weapon again.

When he isn’t training, his thoughts are never far from Ivar. He wonders what he’s doing, if he’s thinking of him or even if he’s relieved he’s away from the city. All questions to which he has no answers. Sometimes at night, he stays outside and stares at the moon, always trying to remember and when the panic of not knowing who he is threatens to overwhelm him, he thinks of Ivar. 

For his part, Floki was relentless and beginning to question his method. He had been so certain that training would help the bishop but the man was awkward and clumsy. It was as if along with his memory, his skills as a warrior had abandoned him. Giving up for the day, he dismisses Heahmund and goes to stand by the water, asking the gods for a sign. His patience was almost at an end trying to help the bishop. No. He wasn’t trying to help the bishop. He was trying to help Ivar. Everything he did, he did to help Ivar. The son he never had. With a weary sigh, Floki laments the absence of a sign from the gods and knows why. He’d received a sign a while back but had chosen to ignore it. The longer he delayed, the worse it would get. He knew what he had to do. His dream had been the sign and he could no longer ignore it. 

The following morning, he meets Heahmund again at the clearing where they train, dull training axes and spears at the ready along with something else. As Heahmund chooses his axes, Floki stops him.

“No. Not those. Use this instead.”

From amongst a wrapped bundle, he removes a long black scabbard. Heahmund freezes when he sees it and the hilt of what is clearly a sword sticking out. He feels an awareness spread through him as he sees it. The grip with the gold threading, the stone covered in gold at the end. Without even realizing it, he slowly steps forward for it, his lips repeating the word Ananyzapata in a mantra before he reaches for it.

Floki looks at him with curious eyes. He sees the change come over Heahmund when he sees the sword. It’s as if a part of him is being awakened by the it. He watches as Heahmund reaches for it, his grip sure and confident. For a brief moment, Floki understands why people spoke of him as a great warrior. Why he is feared for his prowess. Looking at him holding the sword, he also sees why Ivar loves him. 

Heahmund was not a weak man. He was not one to grovel. Had he been such a person, Ivar would have done away with him long ago and never given him a second thought. Instead, he sees the flashes of strength and power in the bishop as he wields and without instruction, begins to practice with the sword as if it held the secrets to his prowess. This was the great warrior people had spoken of. This was the man that had so enthralled Ivar.

Reaching for his axes, Floki gives Heahmund a sinister smile as they begin to spar. The sword is sharp and deadly, Floki is skilled with his axes and does not miss his intended targets yet they both hold back and refrain from killing the other. Not because of any mutual respect but because they each know there would be consequences to face from Ivar if they hurt the other. 

Heahmund doesn’t know how he can wield such a weapon with ease and certainty but he feels it in his bones. The sword is his and an extension of his arm. As he fights, he begins to get flashes again. Countless battles, other times he used his sword. The rush of memories make him smile as he continues to battle Floki, his concentration and focus are on defeating the man in front of him.

Which he does.

Smiling, he goes to help Floki get up after he’s knocked over but is brushed aside by the boatbuilder who gets up with a pained groan.

“What do you remember?”

After a brief pause, Heahmund recounts the battles he remembers fighting although he cannot pinpoint who he was fighting for or why. Still, it’s a start and Floki is satisfied that things are progressing well. 

As they walk back to his home, his mind is on what to do with Heahmund the following day. More sword training. Or maybe he should teach him the ways of the gods. The thought of the pious bishop learning about the gods makes him snicker. Heahmund gives him an odd look but he’s getting used to Floki’s quirks so he refrains from mentioning it. 

Entering the hut, both stop at the door and stare as Ivar sits at the table, calmly eating and looking at them. He had seen them sparring. He had seen Heahmund change and come alive when his sword had been returned to him. The sword was magic. Heahmund may not remember who he was but the sword remembered him and acted accordingly. 

“Leave us.”

Ivar’s eyes are on Heahmund as he dismisses Floki. When Floki leaves, Heahmund enters slowly and walks up to Ivar. Rising awkwardly with his crutch, Ivar stands. For a long moment, they simply stare at each other before Heahmund drops the sword in his hand and embraces Ivar. 

Ivar drops his crutch as he wraps his arms and uses Heahmund’s shoulders to support himself.

As their lips meet, both forget the fear, the pain and the uncertainty. This right here is all both need and want.


	6. We Made It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the final chapter!
> 
> Ivar and Heahmund have faced a lot of challenges but now, it's time for all things to be decided.

It’s the distant call of an owl that wakes Heahmund. Slightly disoriented, he starts to sit up but stops when he feels an arm around his waist. Turning slightly, he sees Ivar laying on his side and in a deep sleep. It’s only then that he realizes both him and Ivar are without clothes. The memories of the evening and night overwhelm him. He’d lain with Ivar and he can still remember how it felt to kiss those lips softly until both were consumed with each others taste. The kisses had turned hungry as each had begun to undress the other, their only focus was to be together. He looks down and sees small bruises forming on Ivar’s hips. A memory of his own fingers digging into skin as he had repeatedly driven himself deep inside Ivar. Ivar’s gasps and moans of pleasure mingled with his own as he’d sought to give them both release. He can see marks on his own chest, proof of Ivar showing no mercy as he remembered feeling the bites on his chest and neck. He shakes his head as if doing so would erase the memories of what they had done.

Other things start to focus for him. He only has to close his eyes as memories start to slam into him.

Meeting with Aethelwulf and Judith. York. The Heathen Army. Giving mass to those who prayed with him. Being captured by Ivar. Being beaten, starved and chained. Meeting King Harald. The decision to fight for Ivar and his army. He remembers the moon and the promises he made that he did not keep. He remembers his betrayal of Ivar for Lagertha. He remembers bedding Lagertha and the regret he had for the entire time he was with her, a haunting pair of blue eyes would follow him into his dreams. He’d never forget the last time he’d seen Ivar right before battle. Ivar’s pain of being betrayed. Heahmund absently rubs his chest as he remembers the echo of arrows piercing his body.

Death

He remembers those final moments and what happened after. He thought he had died but he hadn’t. He’d been left for dead. Ivar’s men had found him. 

His fists clench as he recalls Floki convincing Ivar to make him a slave. His own personal slave. Was that why he was in bed with Ivar? Was that his new job? To fuck the king or be fucked by him?

No. No, he remembers everything. That had never been the intent. This had happened between them because try as he might, Heahmund knew, he had always known that there was a connection between them. Something bound him and Ivar together. Try as he might to deny it, it was there and he could not refute it. 

“Oh God. What have I done?”

Drawing his knees up, Heahmund rests his head on them as the pieces of his life begin to shift and settle. He had always known who he was and what he was meant to do. This though? This was unexpected and terrifying. He was living with heathens and in the bed of their leader. He could just get up, dress and leave. He could pretend that this place, Ivar and this night never happened. It seemed like the perfect solution to his internal conflict but the rational side of him knew that he could not and would not walk away from Ivar. Not like this. 

He had enough turmoil and sin on his soul already. Leaving without a word would affect what little chance of redemption he still had. He turns to look at Ivar who continues to sleep, unaware of what is happening with his bishop. He allows himself a moment to indulge in the feelings of longing and desire he had for Ivar. He could not and would not lie to himself any longer. Not about this.

But it could not happen again. Or could it? 

He just didn’t know. 

Anger, despair, shame and sadness struck him. 

Why had this happened to him? Had he not been pious enough? Not as humble as he should have been? There were no answers he could find within himself to find relief or absolution for his sins. The only solution he could think of was to do penance. 

He stands, resolution on his face as he finds pants and puts them on. He doesn’t need a shirt. Not for what he will do. 

He leaves the cabin and walks through the woods until he finds a long thin sapling on the ground. It would have to do. Kneeling, he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands in front of him, the sapling laid before him.

“ O Lord, Jesus Christ, Redeemer and Saviour, forgive my sins, just as You forgave Peter's denial and those who crucified You. Count not my transgressions, but, rather, my tears of repentance. Remember not my iniquities, but, more especially, my sorrow for the offenses I have committed against You. I long to be true to Your Word, and pray that You will love me and come to make Your dwelling place within me. I promise to give You praise and glory in love and in service all the days of my life. Amen.”

He picks up the sapling and immediately flings it across his side as it lightly bends and leaves a welt across his side and part of his back. Again and again he strikes himself until it feels as if his back and his sides are on fire. Still he does not stop. Tears are running down his cheeks for no matter how hard he strikes and how often he does it, he does not feel as if he’s forgiven. His sins are not absolved. He moves to strike himself yet again when a hand grasps his wrist in a firm grip preventing him from hurting himself some more.

He looks up, stunned to see not Ivar standing before him but Floki. 

Floki who made him a slave. Floki who helped him start remembering. Floki who was now staring at him with anger in his eyes as he took the sapling from him and threw it to the ground. 

He’s even more stunned when Floki takes a hard swing, striking him in the face causing Heahmund to fall to the ground.

“So you have remembered. You remembered and you come here to cower like a dog and beat yourself. Why? Tell me why priest. Are you beating yourself because you shared a bed with Ivar? Is that such a sin for you Christians that you would harm yourself? Or are you beating yourself because you find yourself yet again at the mercy of heathens? Which is it?”

Heahmund is rubbing his jaw as he slowly sits up, Floki’s words landing on him with painful accuracy. Yes, he had been beating himself for those reasons but they weren’t the only ones. His shame was deep and though he did not care for Floki, he strangely might be the only one who would understand. 

“It’s everything, don’t you see? For you, it’s so easy because you were born in sin and raised in it. For you, it does not matter how you live your life. All that matters is how you die. Die in battle and you go to your precious Valhalla. It’s not the same for me. Every action I take, every thought, every deed, these count against my immortal soul. I have lived my life knowing I am a sinner but I would repent and feel the Lord’s forgiveness. But no longer. I pray and I repent and I punish myself for my sins and I feel nothing. I do not feel any form of forgiveness for my sins. Why is that? Has God forsaken me? Has he abandoned me because I am too far gone to be forgiven? TELL ME! You have all the answers don’t you? Everywhere I turn, your people talk about you as if you have a direct line to your gods so tell me Floki. Why can I no longer feel mine?”

Floki runs a hand through his beard, his eyes thoughtful as he listens to Heahmund’s outburst. He’s not one to mince words with the man. Although he does not believe in the man’s god, he knows the man himself does or he would not be so conflicted.

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps the reason you no longer feel your god is because you turned from him when you made the choice to stay with Ivar? You remember everything and yet rather than kill Ivar and leave or even just leave without a backwards glance, you didn’t. You came instead to ask for forgiveness. Was being with Ivar a sin priest?”

His shrewd eyes take in Heahmund’s face as he leans in close to the man.

“You love him…”

Heahmund stares back, not backing down from Floki’s words.

“Say it. Say those words priest and find your sin or your salvation. SAY THEM!”

“I love Ivar.”

Instead of feeling disgust or despair, he finds himself stunned to feel at peace with this admission. Gone are the feelings of agony over what he had done and what his past had forced him to become. Heahmund gave out a sobbing breath as realization hit him. He had been asking for forgiveness that was not forthcoming because with love, there was nothing to forgive. Everything he’d done, everything he’d gone through had led him here. To this place and to Ivar.

“Heahmund…?”

Floki and Heahmund both turn to see Ivar standing, his braces on and his gaze sharp on his bishop. He had woken to find Heahmund gone. A jolt of fear had gone through him that perhaps Heahmund had left him again. He had dressed quickly to try and find him only to instead stumble into this moment. He had heard everything.

Floki makes a sign before he turns and walks away, his figure melting away into the shadows of the night as Heahmund slowly rises and stares at Ivar. Ivar stays where he’s at, uncertain. It is Heahmund that walks towards him, reaching out with his hand to lightly brush it across Ivar’s face.

“I remember everything. My past. Who I am. What I did to you. What happened between us. And I know what I want. My future. Our future.”

He leans in to give Ivar a kiss before releasing him, smiling at the somewhat confused expression on Ivar’s face.

“I am Heahmund, former Bishop of Sherborne. You are Ivar, son of Ragnar and King of Kattegat. Can the pagan king love a Christian?”

Ivar smiles at him and goes to kiss him, their lips speaking far more than words ever could as they kiss and smile and hold each other under the night sky, not caring how they got to this moment. 

All that mattered was that they’d made it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This AU has follows the plot up until the battle and Heahmund is injured, not killed and captured yet again by Ivar.


End file.
